


Star

by Ginnybag



Series: Only Almost [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, Changed ages, How does Treize know who Zechs is anyway?, M/M, The Author does know Zechs is Milliardo is Zechs - except when he isn't!, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-31
Updated: 2006-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginnybag/pseuds/Ginnybag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2006 as a Birthday Present for one of my wonderful and talented Beta's - Iriana. That'll teach her to mention 'Trains' to me again! </p><p>In Treize's opinion, travelling on a train was anachronistic, travelling on a train to a Romefeller Conference was inefficient and travelling on a train sharing a cabin was uncomfortable. </p><p>At least, though, the company was both intelligent and rather pretty - if hauntingly familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star

**Author's Note:**

> Only Almost is set in a universe which is almost canon - with two major exceptions. The Sanc Kingdom survived three years longer than it did in the series. This means that Relena was 4 years old, Zechs, almost 9, and Treize, just turned 15 at the time of the Alliance attack. The structure of the Peacecraft Family is somewhat different as well.
> 
> It matters - you'll see why!
> 
> The song was written to Erasure's 'Star' - I have no idea why!
> 
> The series as a whole is titled from Brian McFadden's 'Only Almost'

Treize stared out of the window without really seeing the landscape in front of him, his deep eyes vacant of any expression in the partial reflection of him the glass offered as he watched the smoke from the train steam across the deep drifts of snow.

Zechs slid the door of the compartment closed behind him and raised an eyebrow at the image his commanding officer presented as he settled his body back into the opposite seat. He waited for the older man to acknowledge him for a minute or two, clearing his throat quietly when it became apparent that Treize was totally lost in whatever he was thinking about so hard.

“The conductor doesn’t seem to know anymore than he did an hour ago, sir,” Zechs began. “All he could tell me is that there’s been an avalanche somewhere in front of us, the track is blocked by the snow and they don’t know how long it’s going to take to clear it.”

Treize snorted delicately as he finally looked at his companion. “How amazingly useful,” he drawled.

“Yes, sir. Though he did make a point of reassuring me that the train is very well equipped for just this situation. Apparently it’s not all that uncommon at this time of year.”

“Oh?”

Zechs shrugged, the casual gesture reflecting the success of the older officer’s insistence on a more casual approach to military discipline whilst the two of them were travelling together. “He’s probably right, sir. Spring _is_ avalanche season, after all.”

The younger man managed to sound as though he were stating a fact everyone should know and Treize couldn’t help but smile. “Is it?” he asked. “I have no idea. The vagaries of snow-covered mountains weren’t a part of the curriculum at the Academy when I was a cadet.”

Anyone else would have cringed at the dryness of Treize’s voice; Zechs didn’t as much as blush. Treize raised an eyebrow as the junior officer shrugged again, completely unfazed and shook his head. “They still aren’t. It’s just something I learned when I was growing up.”

“Ah. Well, given that I grew up in Paris, and given that it isn’t known for its avalanches, I’m sure you’ll forgive me for not knowing such a fascinating bit of information.”

“Yes, sir. Of course I will.”

Treize chuckled at this second display of indifference from his fellow traveller. It was nice to finally have a companion who wasn’t intimidated into shaking in their boots at his very presence. In fact, Zechs’s supremely composed self-confidence was a good deal of the reason Treize had selected the younger man to act as his aide for this little jaunt rather than his usual choice of Lady Une. Delightful as the Lady was, she would have become rather tiresome trapped in such confined quarters for this much time – to say nothing of the inappropriateness of sharing sleeping quarters with a member of the opposite gender.

Why the Alliance insisted on such old-fashioned modes of transportation still was beyond Treize. He could have flown to the meeting in a tenth of the time this train journey was taking.

Sighing sub-vocally, Treize straightened the gloves he always wore on his hands idly and ran his eyes over the other officer, analysing his appearance. Zechs’s uniform was immaculate, despite the fact that it had been stored in his duffel for sixteen hours before he put it on and despite the fact that he had dressed in the cramped space of the bathroom tucked into one corner of the compartment the two of them were sharing. His scarlet jacket was certainly a startling contrast to the standard white pants, gloves and shirt, and the black polished boots of the rest of his dress. The Specials allowed its Officers to customise their uniforms once they’d done something of merit to earn it, but few went as far as Zechs had. By standards, Treize’s own rich-blue coat was something of a departure.

The colour of his jacket was hardly the last peculiar thing about Zechs’s appearance. The silvery-blond hair that hung in a sheet to his shoulder blades certainly drew the eye, and as for the sunglasses that Treize had yet to see the younger man without….

“Zechs, do you know… you have to be the only person who would consider it sensible to wear sunglasses in the snow in the middle of February?”

The blond looked up from the spot on the thick carpet he had been contemplating and raised a fine white eyebrow questioningly. “Perhaps, sir.”

“But you aren’t going to take them off?”

“No, sir.”

“Ah, well.” Treize let the silence that followed his words hang in the air for a few minutes and then he stretched slowly. “I don’t suppose that conductor told you whether breakfast was being served yet, did he? I find that I’m quite hungry.”

 

**************************

 

By the time night was beginning to close in about the train, Zechs felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. From earliest childhood he’d always been happiest when physically active, a tendency worsened by the demanding lifestyle of the Specials, and being forced to sit still for twelve hours was not his idea of fun. Apart from the fact that every muscle in his body was starting to seize up with lack of use, it was leaving him with far too much time to think about things he really didn’t want to.

It didn’t help that Treize looked perfectly comfortable. Shortly after breakfast, the older officer had stripped down to his shirt and breeches, undone his top button and begun reading his way through a stack of books he’d produced from his duffle. Since then, the older man had only moved when nature demanded it, though he had stopped long enough to offer Zechs the first book when he’d finished with it.

From sheer desperation, Zechs had tried reading it but the old-fashioned sci-fi space opera just wasn’t his sort of thing and he was bored before he’d read the first hundred pages.

He’d walked the length of the train a dozen times since then, pestered the conductor till the man had not so politely told Zechs to go away and had stretched both lunch and dinner for as long as he could manage just to keep from being stuck in the compartment.

Zechs suddenly realised that he was staring at his companion rather rudely and he forced his eyes away and down onto the pattern of the carpet, wondering if he shouldn’t just ask Treize to talk to him.

Sighing to himself quietly, the lieutenant acknowledged that he couldn’t do that. It would have been all right, perhaps, if Treize hadn’t been his commanding officer or if Zechs had known him better, or if it just hadn’t been Treize but…

“You’re fidgeting, Zechs.”

The younger man all but had a heart attack at the sudden break in the silence of the cabin, and he whipped his head up to see that Treize had set his book aside and was smirking at him.

“I take it the book wasn’t to your taste?” the other officer continued.

“Thank you for lending it to me, sir, but not really, no. I don’t read a great deal of fiction of any sort, to be honest.”

“Really?” Treize asked. “That’s a shame. I find it a fantastic method of escaping from the world for a few hours. I wish I had more time to devote to it.” He smiled suddenly. “What are your hobbies then, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Zechs shrugged. “Generally more active, sir. Running, swimming, hiking, riding, fencing – that sort of thing.”

“You fence?” Treize asked, sitting up a little more. “For the sake of it, I mean. Beyond the requirements of the service.”

“Yes, sir. I have since I was a child.”

“Are you any good?”

Zechs blinked at the sudden eagerness in the older man’s voice. “I… suppose so, sir. I captained the fencing team at the Academy in my second and third years.”

“Did you really?” Treize smiled brightly, one of the most warm and genuine expressions Zechs had ever seen from him. “What a wonderful co-incidence – so did I. We’ll have to arrange a match between the two of us when we get back to base. It will be interesting to go against someone who might be able to beat me.”

“Yes, sir,” Zechs agreed, privately doubting the likelihood of that happening. Treize’s reputation as a fencing master preceded him, and whilst the younger man knew there were very few people who could beat him on a fencing mat, he was also sure his commander was one of them.

“Have you customised your sabre, then, as well as your uniform?” Treize persisted, his eyes on the sheathed sword where Zechs had rested it against the wall. “I can’t imagine you being happy with the standard issue dress blade if you actually enjoy sword play.”

Zechs let himself smile a little in response. “Yes, sir. It was one of the first things I did when I was allowed to. Would you like to see it, sir?” he quizzed, knowing from the naked curiosity in Treize’s eyes that the older man was dying to.

“Would you mind?” Treize pounced.

“Not at all.” As he spoke, Zechs reached out and passed the sword over to the older man, who took it in gentle hands. Long fingers ran over the pattern worked into the scabbard and etched into the hilt, and then curled around the grip almost automatically.

The pleading look Treize shot Zechs was enough and the younger man nodded his answer to the unspoken question. “Go ahead, sir. You can draw it.”

“Thank you.”

Gracefully, Treize came to his feet and moved to stand in the middle of the compartment before he pulled the sword clear of its sheath. Zechs took the discarded scabbard back and sat watching as his commander looked over the blade, wondering what the older man would make of it.

“Oh, now,” Treize murmured, allowing his body drop into the en guarde position it wanted to assume and letting the blade rest in his hand as he tried to get a feel for it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this, Zechs.”

“I modelled it after the ceremonial swords of my family, sir, so it’s not likely you would have seen anything similar,” Zechs explained as he put the sheath down and stood up as well, moving to stand behind the older man in the confined space.

Treize looked over his shoulder at the younger man, catching a first glimpse of the light blue eyes hidden by the sunglasses. “It’s incredibly light,” he noted, “And this re-curve on the hilt is most unusual. How do you keep from straining your wrist?” he asked. “Mine is starting to ache just standing here.”

“It’s light because the hilt is hollow, sir. There’s no weight in it to balance the blade. Uhm,” Zechs hesitated, reaching around Treize with one hand. “You aren’t holding it quite right, sir, that’s why your wrist hurts. If you shift your grip – hold it more like you would a gun…” The younger man settled his fingers over his commander’s and guided them into the right place. “It’s known as a pistol grip, sir. Because there’s no stress on the wrist muscles from the stance, it’s faster and the range of movement is greater than a normal sabre, especially if the person using it is strong with their wrist-work.”

“Fascinating! Now I know we have to have that fencing match. I’d love to see this used properly. The entire technique must be different.”

The sheer enthusiasm in Treize’s voice was enough to make Zechs relax a little and forget how close he was standing to the other man. “A bit, yes, sir,” he admitted. “It isn’t so bad once you get used to the different way of moving. See, if you just…” Zechs pushed down onto Treize’s hand, making him move it a few inches to one side, “…let your stance shift slightly. No, here,” he corrected, putting his other hand on the older man’s trim waist and pulling gently until Treize leaned into him.

Almost automatically, Treize followed the subtle instructions, imitating as the first step in learning, years of lessons under dozens of fencing masters who’d all twitched his natural talent into skilled perfection in just the same way giving him the ability to trust that the younger man knew what he was doing. His free hand extended behind him, completing the line of his body and granting him perfect balance.

Treize held the pose a moment, enjoying the feel of the pull on his muscles and then he turned his head again and looked over his shoulder at his lieutenant.

Zechs’s gaze was focused on the tip of his sword, a frown of concentration setting two tiny lines between his fine white eyebrows. For the second time that day, Treize could make out the icy colour of Zechs’s irises, and he wondered why he was surprised that the younger man’s eyes were blue. Given the sweep of his platinum hair it should have been the logical conclusion.

Those eyes suddenly snapped to Treize’s, and then the younger man blushed hotly as he realised that he still had his hands on his commander’s wrist and waist, long after they were needed. “I’m sorry, sir,” he stammered, letting go and taking a couple of steps back hurriedly.

“Treize, Zechs. My name is Treize.” The older man straightened up and turned around, resting the sword across his hands. “What are you apologising for?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, sir. I had no right to touch you like that!”

Treize blinked. “Why on earth not? You were only…”

“The regulations state that touching a superior officer is considered an offence!”

Treize just smiled and shook his head. “Oh, that old thing. That regulation is a holdover from pre-colony military units, from the days when the officers were wealthy nobility and the enlisted men often known criminals recruited from prisons. It was kept because it serves to enhance the idea of a commander being something more than an ordinary human and promotes a certain standard of discipline. It’s an anachronism of the worst kind, especially for a unit like ours. Feel free to ignore it.”

Zechs’s face still showed heightened colour. “Still, sir…it was inappropriate.”

“Isn’t that my call to make?” Treize asked. “I don’t think that it was. Given the circumstances and the information you were trying to impart, you were only choosing to use the most efficient method.” He allowed his eyes to take on an impish sparkle, and his smile became a wicked grin. “Besides, I can think of many far worse people to be touched by than you.”

The younger officer’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “I… beg your pardon, sir?”

Treize smirked, the slight sadistic streak he possessed enjoying the other man’s discomfort. “Perhaps you should spend some time looking at yourself in a mirror, Zechs. You’re hardly an unattractive man.” He chose that moment to hand the sabre back with a quietly murmured, ‘thank you’ and moved to sit down again.

Zechs took the blade back by reflex, staring at the older man. “I’m…. what, sir?” he demanded, without thinking.

Treize turned back around, tilting his head to one side a little. “Come now. I refuse to believe that no one before me has commented on how you look, Zechs. Even with those glasses, you’re a rather striking individual and I suspect that you’d be positively stunning without them.”

The fading blush returned full force, even though Zechs couldn’t adequately explain why. Certainly, Treize had a point when he said he wasn’t the first to comment on Zechs’s appearance but to hear such a thing from a man he barely knew, and who was his commanding officer besides, was something of a shock and more than a little embarrassing.

Fighting to regain his composure, Zechs bridled a little when Treize began to laugh gently. “I fail to see what’s so humorous, sir.”

Treize gestured elegantly with one hand. “Not a great deal, Zechs. It’s merely that I’ve been wondering for days now how to crack that composure of yours. I didn’t think it would be so simple a thing as a compliment that would do it!”

Clamping down firmly on the anger that wanted to rise at being teased, Zechs shook his head. “Not the compliment, sir. Just the person giving it. Wouldn’t Lady Une be rather… upset with you if she had heard that?”

Treize raised an eyebrow, but continued to chuckle. “Oh, doubtlessly. And then I would have to warn her, again, about her behaviour towards me. She is an excellent officer and a dear friend, but she does seem to have difficulty with some very simple concepts sometimes.” He paused, then shrugged fluidly. “Such as that of a man being gay.”

Treize let his statement drop into the sudden silence of the cabin, then turned away again and finally settled himself onto the seat.

Zechs stared at him, his mind a blank for a moment as he tried to process how the conversation had gone the way it had. He sat down again himself, sheathing his sword as he forced his mind to work. Why would Treize say such a thing to him anyway? Even if it was true – and there was a part of Zechs that admitted that he thought it was – what purpose could it serve? “Why would you tell me that, sir?” he asked quietly a minute later.

Treize shrugged gracefully, glancing across the compartment at the younger officer. “Why would I not?” he returned. “It’s a matter of it being the truth, and I have no reason to hide it.” His eyes took on an analytical glint. “I didn’t imagine it would bother you to know – I had supposed you were too bright to make any silly assumptions – but if it does make you uncomfortable, then I apologise.”

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, sir,” Zechs assured. “I have reasons other than intelligence for not assuming anything. But why would you confess such a thing to a junior officer you barely know? The information is nothing if not personal, and therefore…”

“Mine to tell to whom I choose, no?” Treize leaned back into the padding of his chair, eyes half closed lazily.

“Well, yes, of course, but…”

“But?” Treize asked gently, then shook his head, gesturing with one hand dismissively. “It’s hardly important, Zechs. As long as you can still deal with me as your Commanding Officer, forget I ever said anything.”

The younger man gazed at the elder for a few seconds and then nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Treize smiled suddenly and got to his feet. “Now, in the vain hope that the train will actually be moving when I wake, I’m going to bed.” He pressed the button that would drop the small bunk into place over the bench he’d been sitting on and then looked over his shoulder at the pilot as he picked up his bag and headed into the small bathroom. “Don’t feel that you have to join me, though.”

Zechs shook his head. “It’s quite all right, sir. I don’t have anything better to do after all, and I wouldn’t want to disturb you later.”

“All right then.”

The bathroom door shut behind the general and Zechs got his feet to make his own preparations for sleep.

 

_****************************_

 

It took Zechs quite some while to get to sleep.

For almost an hour after the two men settled into their respective bunks in the compartment they talked quietly, sticking to random topics and never touching onto anything important. Finally, Treize seemed to drift off almost between one word and the next, his eyes flickering shut and his voice fading out. Zechs held himself perfectly still as Treize’s face smoothed and his rangy body relaxed, surprised by how youthful his commanding officer suddenly looked. Without the force of his personality to distract, he seemed nothing more than another young man, peaceful and innocent in sleep.

For a time, the pilot simply laid in his bed and gazed at his companion, listening to the soft whispers of Treize’s breathing as it passed through his slightly parted lips and watching how his eyelids flickered under the influence of whatever dream he was having, red-tinted lashes soft against his pale skin. Perhaps it was because of the confidences Treize had shared before they retired but Zechs found himself actually *looking* at the older man for the first time, taking in the details of his appearance.

He found himself speculating vaguely on just what the general’s reaction would have been if Zechs had owned up to the truth and admitted that Treize's little confession of his sexuality applied just as well to the pilot, something which was, in part, why the general’s blasé attitude towards sharing the information had been so startling. Zechs himself was almost fanatically careful about whom he told – with one or two exceptions, the only people who knew were those he’d been to bed with.

As he let his eyes wander over the older man’s body, the blond wondered whether Treize had ever done much in the way of acting on his preferences. Until the past few months of action had added weight to the pilot’s reputation as an ace, he’d been relatively unknown, notable mostly for his unusual appearance and his good marks. That anonymity was something Treize had never had – his every move had been scrutinised, probably for his whole life – and Zechs had to question just when the older man ever found time to get up to anything remotely private.

The younger man let his eyes trace a path from his face down Treize’s one visible arm, noting that the milky skin was occasionally broken by the faint darker splodge of a freckle. He was curious about where and when the general had picked up the scar Zechs could see just below the short sleeve of his t-shirt and about what could have caused the ragged slash across his bicep.

There were other, much smaller scars flecked across the back of his forearm as well, tracing a staggering path down to the hand that was gently clasping the blanket, holding it in place. Raising an eyebrow curiously, Zechs realised that Treize still had his gloves on, the thin white cotton form fitting around the hands the pilot would bet money were beautiful, long fingered and graceful. Wondering what had prompted such an odd thing – was the older man hiding something, was he trying to protect his skin for some reason or had he simply forgotten he was wearing them? – Zechs frowned a little.

The red-head chose that moment to sigh softly and roll over, putting his back to his bunk mate and blocking any further study with the folds of the sheets tucked around him.

Zechs chuckled silently, turning onto his other side himself and settling down into the warmth of his bed. One hand reached up and flicked off the light in the compartment and then Zechs slipped off his sunglasses, tucking them neatly under pillow as he shut his eyes.

 

*****************************

 

The pilot was woken from his slumber some hours later by the bathroom door being closed with more force than it strictly needed.

A combination of training and instinct made him look around, instantly alert as he lifted his head from the pillow. A moment later, having noted that Treize’s bunk was empty and that therefore the noise had been caused by the older man, Zechs dropped his head back down and closed his eyes as he let his body calm and then rouse itself again more naturally.

His waking doze made the blond aware that there was hazy light creeping around the edges of the blinds over the windows but that it wasn’t strong enough yet for it to be anything like late enough for Zechs to have to get up. It also made him aware of the fact that Treize seemed to have gotten his wish – the cabin was rocking gently as the train moved forward along the track, albeit extremely slowly.

Zechs drifted between sleeping and wakefulness for a few minutes before muffled sounds from the bathroom penetrated his consciousness, making him sit up fully as he paid attention, scowling.

Though the sliding wooden partition was quite effective in disguising noise, Zechs could make out the sounds of the toilet flushing and a tap running for a few moments before he caught Treize’s voice. The general’s tone was that of annoyance, his voice roughened somehow as he spat something that sounded distinctly impolite in a language Zechs was almost sure was French.

Puzzled and a little concerned, Zechs pushed his covers back and swung round to put his feet on the floor but before he could stand up and make his way over to the bathroom door, it slid back and Treize padded across the compartment. The older man seemed utterly oblivious to the younger as he made his way over to his duffel and began rooting in one of the side pockets, finding and withdrawing a pristine white handkerchief. He folded it up and held it to a spot on his jaw, dropping a small case back onto his bunk as he did so.

Realising the older man was already in full uniform and wondering just what it was he was doing, Zechs slid out from under his covers, stood up and moved so he was standing behind and little to one side of his commander. “Sir?” he asked.

Treize visibly jumped, his head snapping around so he could stare at the blond in surprise. “Zechs!? Jesus Christ, I thought you were asleep still!”

“Sorry to startle you, sir. You woke me when you closed the bathroom door,” Zechs explained briefly. He glanced at the handkerchief. “Are you all right, sir?” he enquired quietly.

Treize raised an eyebrow. “Of course I am.”

“With respect, sir, are you sure?” Zechs half-raised one hand, checking the movement before he touched his companion. “You’re bleeding,” he added.

“Obviously,” Treize responded. “I didn’t quite account for the movement of the train that’s all.”

Zechs stared for a moment. “Do you need me to go and find a first aid kit, sir?” he asked, voice showing his worry.

Treize chuckled. “Good grief, no! It’s a shaving cut, Zechs, not an assassination attempt!” He pulled the handkerchief away, revealing a tiny nick on his jaw line. “See? Just an ordinary shaving cut.” He stowed the handkerchief back in his duffel and turned around to sit down on his bunk.

Zechs hovered in front of him, wondering what to do with himself and wondering if the red-head was going to be angry with him.

The first words out of Treize’s mouth proved him wrong on that score. “I’m sorry I woke you, Zechs. It’s horribly early.”

Zechs shrugged, feeling a little at a loss. “It’s all right, sir.”

“Thank you. Are you planning to go back to sleep? You can if you’d like.”

Zechs shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t think so. I’m generally an early riser.”

“Ah. Would you like to go and get breakfast then? I believe that by the time we’re both ready they’ll be serving.”

“If it would suit you, sir,” Zechs answered.

“Excellent.” The general got to his feet and picked up his duffel to stow it back under the seat. “Zechs, didn’t I ask you to call me Treize last night?” he quizzed.

The younger man blushed a little. “Yes… Treize.”

“Good. I appreciate it, you know.” Treize watched as the younger man gathered his own things and made his way across the compartment. “Oh, and Zechs?” he called as the younger man moved to close the door behind him and waited for the blond to turn to look at him again. “You have beautiful eyes,” he added softly.

Zechs stared at the older man for a moment, then his hand flew up to his face as he realised his sunglasses were still under his pillow.

Treize laughed at him, reached across the room and picked them up. He tossed them to the younger man, then waved a hand to shoo him away.

 

****************************

 

“Aren’t you hungry, sir?”

Treize looked up from his contemplation of his coffee cup at the question to see that Zechs was looking at him across the table, fork poised in mid-air.

“Sir?” Treize asked.

“Treize,” Zechs corrected, again, scowling. “Aren’t you hungry, Treize?”

The older man smiled. “Not especially, no. I’ll take something back to the compartment with me, to eat later. Besides,” he continued, letting his smile go impish, “I’m sure you’re eating enough for both of us.”

Zechs coloured – a reaction Treize delighted in getting from him now that he knew how – looking down at his plate. “Probably, yes,” the pilot admitted.

Treize chuckled. Zechs had sat down to breakfast with an expression like a starving orphan and had proceeded to inhale everything put in front of him with a speed only a teenager could manage. “I was exactly the same at your age. You’ll grow out of it, I promise,” Treize teased. “At least now we know how you got to be so tall….”

Zechs shook his head. “I think that’s genetic, Treize. My father….”

Treize watched, curiosity peaked, as Zechs cut himself off mid-sentence and looked down, swallowing. It was the first time the general could recall the pilot mentioning anything about his family – even his service record was lacking the usual background data. “Go on,” he encouraged gently. “Your father…?”

“I was going to say, my father was a very tall man.”

“Ah.” Treize gave it a moment, then leaned forward to ask softly, “‘Was’?”

“He’s dead, sir… and it just occurred to me that I don’t really remember whether he was tall or not. I only know that he seemed it to me but I was… very young….” The pilot shook his head and put his fork down. “I’m sorry, sir. Would you mind if we talked about something else?”

Treize picked up his coffee cup. “Of course not. My apologies for intruding.”

The blond turned his attention back to his meal but his appetite seemed to have gone and he did little more than push the remains around the plate for a time, letting it all congeal into a sticky, unpleasant, unidentifiable mass as it cooled. Treize watched him out of the corner of one eye, concerned, and a little puzzled.

Several times in the last day or so, the younger man had said or done something that triggered a flash of déjà vu in the general. They were nothing more than flickers of memory, years old and buried deep but they were niggling, distracting like a loose tooth that has to be played with. Watching the younger man maul his food set off another one – a flash of another blond boy, younger than the pilot, sitting at an ornate table playing with his food – and Treize scowled.

“You remind me of someone,” he murmured.

The blond looked up. “I’m sorry, Treize. Did you say something?”

“I said, you remind me of someone. You don’t have any cousins or older brothers I’d be acquainted with, do you?”

Blue eyes widened behind the dark glasses, flashing with something Treize was almost sure was raw panic for a heartbeat before the younger man pulled himself together. “That’s… not likely, Treize. I’m… pretty much the last of my family. I have been for years.”

Treize blinked. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, then… No. It must just be coincidence.”

“Probably.”

The pilot dropped his attention back to his plate, sounding subdued and rather miserable. Treize winced, realising his curiosity must have provoked some nasty memories for his companion. Without thinking, he reached across the table and closed his hand over one of the blonde’s. “Are you all right?” he asked gently.

Zechs nodded. “Yes.”

Treize stared at him for a moment, then let him go. “Are you done with breakfast?”

The pilot pushed his plate away from. “Yes.” He stood up, moving away from the table without waiting for the older man. “I… Would you mind if I went for a walk, Treize? I think I’ll go crazy if I have to stare at the walls of that cabin right now.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Treize answered. “Do you want company?” he offered, more than a little concerned.

“No. Thank you.” Zechs shook his head and then turned on his heel to make his way out of the dining car.

 

***************************

 

The morning had become afternoon and that afternoon had shaded into a spectacular sunset before Zechs opened the door to the cabin he was sharing with Treize again.

The older officer looked from whatever it was he’d been doing to entertain himself all day and offered Zechs a smile that was as analytical as it was welcoming. “The wanderer returns,” Treize quipped lightly. “I was starting to think I’d have to send out a search party for you. When you didn’t join me for dinner I began wondering whether you might have fallen overboard.”

“It’s a train, not a ship,” Zechs corrected automatically. “I’m sorry for my absence, sir,” he added, remembering his manners, and just who it was he was talking to, a moment later than he should have. “I…wasn’t hungry.”

“I assumed as much. The conductor assured me that the train kitchen is open till quite late, if you’d like something now, however.”

The blond shook his head, dropping his lanky frame into the cushions of his seat opposite his commander with a heaviness that lacked almost all of his customary grace and care. “I’m fine, thanks,” he replied.

Treize merely looked at him levelly, registering the slight untidiness of Zechs’s hair and uniform and the air of tension flowing off of his companion in the small space. “I doubt that,” he said softly. “Anything you’d care to talk about?” he offered.

Zechs lifted his head form the spot on the carpet he’d been staring at and his surprise was obvious. A second later, he shook his head. “No.”

“All right.” Treize returned his attention to the book he had open on his lap. “Where have you been all day anyway? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you, and it’s not that big of a train.”

“Just… around. Walking, mostly. Or standing on the platform behind the conductor’s unit. It’s cold outside,” Zechs commented, somewhat randomly.

Treize let his face show his amusement at that statement and chuckled dryly. “I’d rather have thought the snow would have been given you a fair indicator of that fact.”

“I suppose it should have, at that.” The smile Zechs summoned was shaky, to be sure, but it was there and a vast improvement – in Treize’s opinion – from the solemnity of the boy’s expression when he’d walked through the door.

“That would be why I outrank you, deductive reasoning like that,” Treize teased. “I’ll say this though, the next time we have to travel half way across Europe to attend one of these Godforsaken meetings, we’re doing it by plane. I don’t care what amorous notions Alliance HQ has, or who they’re trying to set me up with!”

“Set you up with, sir?” Zechs asked, wondering if he’d heard quite correctly. It seemed a little farfetched to assume that Alliance Command would even be interested in Treize’s love life, no matter how valuable an officer he was to them. To suggest that they’d go as far as to interfere in it bordered on the ridiculous.

Treize didn’t seem to think so, though. “Oh, yes. Someone, somewhere either in the Alliance or in one of the other factions who’ll be at the meeting – I have my money on the old buzzards from the Romefeller Military Group myself – has decided that it’s about time I showed some sign of getting myself suitable married off. I *am* the only son and heir to my family after all and a career soldier isn’t always blessed with the greatest of life expectancies.” The older man grinned at his companion and shrugged. “So, then, the nice, long, *boring* train ride in admittedly charming surroundings. All this is supposed to be romantic and you were supposed to be Lady Une.”

“Romantic?” Zechs asked. He looked around. “I…suppose it could be….”

“Quite. I’m sure Une would have thought so. In any case, the idea behind all this is that, trapped in the same small room with her for five days, with very little else to do, I’d be forced to talk to Une and, in talking to her, would come to realise what a wonderful woman she is, fall completely in love with her, and ask her to marry me – all before the train gets us to the meeting.” Treize gestured idly with one gloved hand. “And then we could have had the perfect, fairytale wedding and by this time next year, she would have presented me with my first-born son.”

Zechs laughed softly, something about the sound completely evil. “Whirlwind weddings and children born too soon afterwards – that’d do your reputation wonders, I’m sure.”

Treize blinked, taken aback. “Why, what are you accusing me of, lieutenant?” he asked, his tone a touch coy.

“Nothing, other than having a sense of self-preservation. Five days trapped with Lady Une in this cabin… gay or not, you’d have ended up in bed with her just to have something to do and to get her to shut up!” He paused, wondering whether he’d gone too far. Being out of sorts had a bad habit of making him speak without thinking. “Or, I would, at least. If that constitutes ‘romantic’…” he added, half in apology.

Treize stared at the junior officer for a heartbeat or two, at a loss for how to reply to that, then he began to laugh quietly. “Oh, now, there’s a side of you I haven’t seen before, Zechs. The model officer *is* an act then. I was beginning to wonder.”

Zechs shrugged lightly. “It’s not an act at all. It’s simply not all-encompassing.”

“Good. It’ll be nice to finally have an officer I can talk to.” Trieze let himself chuckle for a few moments before he levelled a look at the younger man that was soaked in mischief. “You have a fancy for the Lady, then, do you? How convenient!”

Zechs choked. “What?”

“Much as I love Une, it would take far more than five days on a train to get me into bed with her. You, on the other hand, seem quite eager for the chance… Perhaps I should be trying to set the two of you up.”

“Oh, my God - don’t you dare!”

Zechs realised what he’d said and immediately blushed so hard he could feel it. “Ah, I….”

Treize had raised both eyebrows at the vehemence with which the boy had spoken; now he waved the stuttered start of an apology and let himself fall back into the padding of his seat as he dissolved into all out laughter.

The blond watched him, wondering what on earth he was supposed to say next. The turn the conversation had taken was so far beyond the bounds of military acceptability it wasn’t funny, and it was mostly Zechs’s fault. Even if Treize was laughing now, that didn’t mean that he would continue to find it amusing when he stopped to think about it.

Laughter suited the older man though. As Zechs gazed at his commander, he couldn’t help but notice that Treize looked far more approachable when he was in the midst of a laughing fit than he ever did otherwise. Something about it made him look younger, more human and only added to his already considerable charm. Without realising it, Zechs found himself smiling along with Treize, as he drifted into thought he definitely shouldn’t have been having.

Perhaps letting himself acknowledge that he found Treize attractive the night before hadn’t been the best of ideas.

The boy was shocked from the rather inappropriate direction his thoughts had taken by the weight of the older officer settling onto the seat next to him. He jumped in reaction and began cursing himself silently for letting himself get so distracted he hadn’t even noticed the older man standing up and crossing the cabin.

“You should smile more often,” Treize murmured.

“Sorry?”

“You should smile more often. It suits you. You really don’t have to be the stern and proper officer all the time you know.”

Zechs shrugged, not knowing what to say, again. Somehow, being stuck for words seemed to be his normal state around the older man and he doubted that blurting the first thought that had crossed his mind – that Treize was far worse than he was for maintaining his facades – would be wise. “Perhaps, sir,” he replied neutrally, a heart beat too late.

“I told you to call me Treize,” the redhead told him. “I think I like this side of you, Zechs. It’s very refreshing. I haven’t laughed like that for a very long time.” He tilted his head, shifting to sit slightly sideways on the bench so that he could look at the younger man. “Perhaps I should have you drummed out of the military so I can hire you as my personal entertainment.” Treize smiled slowly. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d get bored of me very quickly,” Zechs replied. “And then I’d be without a job and you’d be short a pilot.”

“Oh, no, I’m entirely loyal, I promise! But you might have a point. I do rather need you as a pilot. You’ll just have to have a second job, on the quiet.”

Zechs blinked suddenly, swallowing dryly as he realised that Treize was sitting so close to him that he could feel the heat from his body and smell the last traces of his cologne. Why had the older man moved? And…were they flirting?

That thought made him catch his breath as he thought about the last few sentences they’d exchanged. The innuendo in Treize’s comments was clear in hindsight, subtle as it was, and his own response hadn’t been much better. He tensed, trying to move away a little, and Treize caught him with a hand on his arm.

“Am I bothering you?” Treize asked softly, the teasing tone gone completely.

“Ah… I….” Zechs caught himself stuttering and swallowed again whilst he tried to phrase what he was thinking.

“I’ll stop, if I am.”

“No! No, you aren’t bothering me. I’m just… confused. This seems… ah, as though you’re trying to….”

“Trying to what?” Treize encouraged, when Zechs trailed to halt, unable to make himself say what he’d been thinking.

“Well, ah...Flirt with me,” the blond finished, reluctantly.

“I am.”

“Oh.”

Treize tightened his hand on Zechs’s wrist, studying the younger man closely. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked. “I didn’t think you’d mind but if I’m wrong, I’m sorry.”

The phrasing Treize chose to use recalled another, similarly awkward moment from the night before, when the redhead had confessed he was gay. At the time, he hadn’t seemed to have any idea that Zechs shared his preferences. When had that changed?

Suddenly, that was the only think Zechs could focus on – what had he done to give himself away? – and he found himself asking the question before he knew he was speaking.

Treize simply smiled a little. “You’ve said and done one or two things that made me wonder, to be honest, but you didn’t really make me think about it until we were talking about Une just now. You told me I’d have ended up in bed with Une, gay or not and then said ‘Or, I would, at least.’ The situations wouldn’t have been at all comparable if you normally took women to your bed. Une isn’t that bad looking a girl, after all.”

“That’s… very flimsy evidence to base a conclusion on.”

Treize shrugged. “Not really. You’d be amazed at what people say without intending to. Often, the best clue as to who and what someone really is, is in little things like that. Reading what’s left unsaid or what’s been implied is half of what I do all day, after all.” He shrugged again. “I’m sorry if I’m wrong though.”

Zechs shook his head. “You aren’t wrong. I…I wondered whether to say something last night but…”

“It’s all right. Are you still bored?” Treize asked, changing the tone of his voice and the topic in one go.

“Completely,” Zechs sighed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Might I suggest something to keep both of us amused then?”

The blond nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please!” He hesitated. “Ah, what exactly…?” he asked warily.

“Only this.” Treize whispered the words almost directly into Zechs’s ear and then leaned in a little further and brushed his lips across the blonde’s.

Zechs froze, shocked past any attempt to respond. He’d had an idea that the older man might mean something along these lines – he was far from stupid, after all – but to actually have Treize kiss him…

Reading his surprise, Treize pulled back and looked at the blond with steady eyes. “No?” he asked gently and it took the pilot a moment or two to process that his commander thought he objected.

“No, I don’t mind…” he stammered. “I just wasn’t ever expecting you to kiss me!”

Treize chuckled. “I imagine not. But if you don’t mind…?”

Zechs smiled at him hesitantly and reached out with the hand he had free, letting it rest on the older man’s shoulder lightly. They leaned towards one another again and then Treize stopped to reach up and pull Zechs’s glasses free. “You won’t need those, I don’t think,” he murmured as he folded them and set them to one side.

The red head seemed to stop for a second as he looked at the blond, and then he nodded. “You really do have beautiful eyes…” he breathed. “So familiar…” He closed the distance between them.

Zechs felt the slight pressure of Treize’s lips pour all through his body until it pooled low in his stomach, adding a sharp note to the need that had been strengthening in him, undetected till now, since his commander first sat next to him.

Treize let his mouth linger for a second or two, giving Zechs the chance to pull away if he wanted to. When the pilot didn’t move, Treize let go of the boy’s wrist and brought his hand up to join the other one, catching Zechs’s face between them as he increased the pressure of his kiss. The cotton of his gloves was warm and soft against Zechs’s skin.

Without warning, Zechs leaned into their kiss with more force, sliding his hands around the older man’s slim waist, feeling the perfectly straight spine and the strong muscles of the soldier under his fingers as he pulled them together. He opened his mouth invitingly, encouragingly and then took a mental back seat again and waited.

Treize made some small sound in the back of his throat, and suddenly the two of them were kissing properly, shifting weight and slickness of skin, heat and wetness. Zechs could taste the older officer, clean and real, his body solid and warm where it rested against the pilot’s own.

Arousal grew between them in a slow burn, building as they pulled away from each other’s lips to pant for air and then turned their attentions to other areas of exposed skin. Treize applied the tip of his tongue to Zechs’s jaw line, pleased with the little jumps and bitten-off groans he got in response, and with Zechs’s retaliation of sharp little bites to his throat above his commander’s collar. Swathes of silver-blonde hair fell forward as the younger man bent his head and whisked across Treize’s face, cool and silky.

Acting on impulse, the older officer caught one of the lengths and kissed it. “So pretty….” he whispered, sending his other hand seeking for the buttons of the blonde’s jacket.

The pilot felt himself tense. No-one but him had touched his hair in years, not his guardians as a child and certainly none of his previous lovers. It was something he never allowed, no matter how much they wanted to play with the striking locks. His hair was not something to be trivialised that way.

Treize, though, had broken that particular rule before Zechs had even thought to tell him of it and, strangely, the blond found he didn’t mind half as much as he’d thought he would. He had the sudden premonition that Treize would break a lot more rules before they were done with one another.

Zechs smiled to himself a little as he shifted to aid the older man in getting him out of his uniform and then reached to return the favour. Kicking his boots off as Treize tossed his dress shirt onto the seat, Zechs got one knee under him on the bench and swung the other over his commander’s lap.

“What are you doing?” Treize gasped, looking up.

“I thought you wanted this?” Zechs quizzed, staying on his knees to keep their bodies from touching more than they had to. “Too fast?” he asked softly a moment later. His wonderings over how much real-world experience Treize had recurred to Zechs suddenly and he looked down at his commander with gentle eyes. Just because he was used to rough-and-tumble casual encounters with fellow cadets and squadron members, didn’t mean that Treize was and Zechs knew he would do well to remember that. The redhead struck him as the type used to at least the illusion of romance, slow seduction and gentle coaxing a necessity and foreplay a required precursor rather than either a means to an end in itself or something that was abandoned altogether for the sake of speed. “I can…” he started and was interrupted.

“It’s fine,” Treize insisted, looking as though he’d come to some sort of decision. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“All right.” Zechs bent forward a little until he could kiss his commander again and felt the tenseness in the other man’s body ebb away. Treize’s hands – which had locked onto Zechs’s waist instinctively, providing balance for them both – slid to catch the blonde’s hips and pull him in and down, until he was straddling the red-head, sitting in his lap.

Zechs fell into the kiss, losing all thought into it, feeling the little shocks of pleasure through his body as it deepened and their tongues met again. He shifted restlessly and felt the other man jerk as he tried to gasp at the change in pressure. The pilot could feel Treize’s erection through the thin fabric of their remaining clothes, and he knew Treize would be able to feel his matching need just as clearly.

Without thinking, Zechs slipped a hand down between their bodies and let his fingers rest against that hardness.

This time, Treize broke their kiss to gasp, dropping his head back against the head rest of the seat as he did so. “Dear God!” he whispered and Zechs chuckled, low in his throat.

“Nice?”

“Oh, yes. It’s been far too long…”

Zechs stroked him a little, rubbing his fingers up and down, teasing through the cloth. “You have done this before, then,” he murmured, more to himself than to Treize and the older man shot him something of a startled look.

“Of course I have! Why would you think I hadn’t?”

Zechs shrugged his reply. “I was just wondering. How much too long?” he asked a second later, grinning down at his companion.

“I… don’t know. Months. More than a year. I don’t… have much chance….”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Zechs agreed, knowing his conclusions hadn’t been that far off. He smiled suddenly and pushed back from the older officer. “Let me do this, then.”

He slid to his knees on the carpet, sitting back on his heels gracefully for a moment before he knelt up again and leaned in. Deft fingers worked the fastening on Treize uniform trousers and pulled both them and the man’s underwear down and out of the way.

Treize’s breathing hitched and he stared sown at the blond, a little wide eyed. “Zechs… you don’t have to….”

Zechs shrugged. “I know,” he murmured, knowing his breath would be blowing warm and teasing across the length he’d taken in careful fingers. “But I enjoy it.” He smiled briefly and then bent his head, kissed a line down Treize’s flat stomach, stopping just as breath stirred the reddish curls again. “Do you want me to?” he asked.

Treize’s eyes had gone the colour of a perfect night sky; his tongue was tracing his lips restlessly, wetting them repeatedly as he panted. “What…?” he asked, dazedly.

“Do you want me to?” Zechs asked again, as he kissed the hardened flesh in front of him.

“Please…!”

Zechs chuckled softly, bending his head just the little further it needed. The first soft licks at his commander’s erection brought shivers and whimpers from the older man – sounds which turned to soft cries when Zechs took the length of him into his mouth and began to suck.

Treize felt the world reel around him and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to fight for balance. His hands caught in Zechs’s hair to keep involuntarily, the satiny strands sliding over the fabric of his gloves without catching. He could feel his release building with frightening force, swirling up through his stomach in an ever-tightening wave until it threatened to overwhelm him completely.

Struggling to form the words, he choked out something of a warning to the younger officer and felt the pressure ease for a moment as Zechs sat back.

“It’s all right. Let go.”

“But…” Treize tried to protest and firm strokes of Zechs’s hand prevented the thought. He shook his head to try to clear it. “You won’t mind me…?”

“Not at all,” the blond promised, and bent back to his task with enthusiasm.

There was uncomfortable tension in the body under his hands, Zechs realised after a second. Despite Zechs reassurance, Treize was still fighting not to give in; either that, or it had been so long that he’d forgotten how. Whichever it was, Zechs had a cure for it.

Treize gave a choked cry as Zechs began to hum, opening his throat in a way he’d worked hard to learn and taking the redhead full length. There was a moment’s utter stillness and then Treize went rigid as his climax took him and he came in pulsing waves.

As he did, he looked down, taking in icy blue eyes looking up at him, framed by white-gold hair and a wash of memory took him, making him cry out all over again. In the moment’s thought left to him before he was gone on sensation completely, he made a sudden decision and then gave it all up.

Zechs pulled back a little, catching the spilling fluid neatly and smiling as he swallowed quickly. He decided rather randomly that he liked the taste, and then sat up to brace the older man as he slumped.

“Give me a minute,” Treize gasped, “and I’ll…”

Zechs shook his head, standing up so he could drop to sit on the seat next to the older man and give him something to lean against as he got his breath back. The pilot wiped the back of one hand across his mouth before speaking. “It’s fine. We have all night. You can play with me later,” he murmured and felt Treize chuckle lazily.

“All right….”

Deep blue eyes fluttered closed and Zechs held himself completely still as the older man slid into a reactive doze.

 

***********************************

 

It turned out that – when they finally got there – the meeting organisers had roomed the two men together.

The aide who’d informed them of that little detail had been tense enough to shatter, clearly braced for some sort of explosion from one or the other of them. It was reasonable enough to think that they’d be sick of being under each other’s feet after their journey, but Treize and Zechs had merely looked at one another, rolled their eyes at more evidence of the plotting Treize insisted was going on, and disappeared into their room without protest.

Late on in the evening of their first day, Treize found himself standing by his companion’s bed, staring down at the younger man with haunted eyes. The pilot looked young in his sleep, a small smile playing around his lips, his hair mussed and in glorious disarray all over his pillows.

Memory assailed Treize, giving him vision after vision of this man as a child, looking up at him from the stature of a toddler, then just as he was school-age and finally as a frowning, too-solemn eight year old. More memories came with a welter of forgotten feeling, and Treize had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. A smiling, elfin, graceful young man in his mid teens, the perfect mirror image of the one in front of him – except that he hadn’t lived to be quite this old.

Sinking slowly to his knees, Treize extended one hand to touch his companion and pulled it back before he could make contact. “Zechs,” he whispered, his voice broken. “Zechs Peacecraft….”

Closing his eyes, Treize pressed his weight into the edge of the bed and hand to bring his hand to his mouth and bite down on his knuckles to keep the sobs accompanying the sudden wash of tears from echoing in the darkness of the room.

 


End file.
